I'm Right Here
by AlphaWolfOfRed67
Summary: Stefan gets mugged. He's a little battered and bruised and Damon takes care of him. "I'm right here, Stefan." Damon's voice was firm, unwavering and Stefan knew, despite everything, that his brother was in deed right there. HumanStefan!


A/N: Back with another VD fic ^^ sorry, I usually make em longer chapter wise but I haven't been in a good mood lately. This is another brotherly fic where Damon takes care of Stefan. Two or three chapters!

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I DO NOT own The vampire diaries or the characters! Nor do I own the song being used in the fanfic! Song- Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain- All rights to rightful owners!

Also! I am looking for someone to wrote a Harry Potter fan fiction! I can not find many fics concerning the brotherly bond between Ron, George and Fred! PM If you're interested an ill tell you the summary/plot/idea I wanted written! I do appreciate it! I am no good at writing Harry Potter fics an would love to it written.

Might be Mistakes, Misspellings, Errors, etc! Will fix later on!

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The cool liquid flowed down his throat like chilling ambers, going through him like ice before turning to a burning sensation- a satisfying feeling of hot prickles stabbing his insides. Whoever said alcohol wasn't the answer when drowning in self pity obviously didn't know the soothing effect it had going down an impossibly dry throat. Sure, it wasn't the most subtle way to go about handling ones problems but at the moment it was the only thing that could numb the emotions swirling inside him.

A weary combination of thunder and lighting, a wave clashing against the shore, a battle raging inside him, colliding like two swords in the dead of night. That's how it felt inside his head. A collision of emotions never went well, not when it dealt with anger, regret, guilt or self-loathing. The aftermath could be disastrous and for Stefan? The Salvatore was sure he was a ticking bomb ready to detonate once those said emotions finally collided in one giant mess of rage and sorrow.

Moss green eyes stared into the yellow liquid, studying the contents within the fine glass. He moved his hand in a circular motion, watching as the bourbon twirled, forming a small twister. Stefan found it oddly fascinating all of a sudden. It was like looking into an actual live twister- not that he's ever been inside one of mother natures most destructive powers- but gazing into the shallow hole in the center gave him a pretty good idea. He imagined being swept up into one, how you'd be helplessly at the twisters mercy. Stefan saw himself being lifted up into it's hold, being tossed about like a rag doll, thrown into a fit of tangled limbs and obscured vision.

Right now, he felt like he knew all too well what it was like being inside a twister.

Stefan halted his movement. The bourbon, too, seemed to still. The small twister slowly disappearing until the bourbon laid flat once again. Somehow, he found it less and less appealing like before. Maybe it was the bubbling sensation of nausea forming in the pit of his stomach or the sudden guilt eating away at his mind. This time, alot clearer. The last twenty-four hours seemed to beckon him with constant images and thoughts he would rather forget. It didn't look like luck was on his side, however.

Stefan slowly placed the glass on the bar, sighing deeply. How he was even able to think with the amount of noise going on around him was highly questionable. Chatters filled the room along with the colliding of pool balls smacking against each other. Many other sounds accompanied those ones and if not for Stefan's own loud thoughts, He would have one hell of a headache. A song blared, country if he had to guess, from the jukebox. Usually he wouldn't pay much mind to whatever tune was being played but the more it carried on, the more he found himself listening to the words, being drawn into the lyrics like a moth to a zapper.

Before he knew it, his eyes had slowly drifted close.

 _Every storm runs, runs out of rain,_

 _Just like every dark night turns into day,_

 _Every heartache will fade away._

 _So hold your head up and tell yourself that there's something more_

 _And walk out that door_

 _Go find a new rose, don't be afraid of the thorns_

 _'Cause we all have thorns_

 _Just put your feet up to the edge, put your face in the wind_

 _And when you fall back down, keep on rememberin'_

A phantom pain pierced his heart. The same heart that had died long ago, that was fully functional and beating in time with his breathing. As he listened to each line, every word drifting ever so smoothly over the rest of the noise in the bar, the ache intensified. It wasn't the kind of pulsating throb that came with a stubbed toe or pounding headache. No, it went much deeper than the surface, attacking him from the inside and it hurt. It was something he felt on a number of occasions, something he wasn't a stranger to feeling. It soared through his veins like lava, heating his blood until it boiled. The cause of his emotional distress- heartache.

Stefan let out a harsh breath. He recalled the earlier events that transpired a day ago. His mind still had a hard time processing that he was in fact a human and no longer a vampire.

Bonnie's tear stricken face flashed before his closed lids. Her hazel orbs, that on any other day were soft and understanding, were filled with horror, sadness and anger. All which was aimed directly at him because not only had he planned to kill Elena but didn't so much as blink when killing Enzo. His hand had pierced through flesh and bone until it gripped Enzo's heart and tore it from his body as if it was something unimportant. To Stefan, it was. There was no regret, no remorse, no compassion in his eyes after killing him. Enzo's motionless frame fell to the floor with a thud- dead.

Bonnie let out a heart wrenching sob that would have made Stefan cringe out the raw emotion in her voice if not for his lack of personality. He saw the fear, the sorrow and the rage shinning in her glassy eyes. It was embedded into his brain. He had even proceeded to kill her also, not caring that she was his friend, that Elena was once the love of his life. All he could think about was killing them.

The one thing that he hadn't expected was for Bonnie to stab him with a needle, a vial filled with the one thing that could turn a vampire into a human. The cure.

Stefan had his elbows supported on the table, his hands entwined together to rest under his chin and eyes still clamped tightly shut. His breathing was slightly faster, the memory too vivid, too real. As much as he tried to will it away, to push it far from his mind where it stuck like the plague, torturing him with a past he can't escape, it would not fade.

 _Every storm runs, runs out of rain,_

 _Just like every dark night turns into day,_

 _Every heartache will fade away,_

 _Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain,_

 _It's gonna run out of pain,_  
 _It's gonna run out of sting,_  
 _It's gonna leave you alone,_  
 _It's gonna set you free._  
 _Set you free._

Stefan shook his head like the action itself could actually toss the thoughts from his mind. Bonnie had did what she had to, to keep him from getting to Elena and tearing heart out. That meant forcing the cure into his veins, throwing him completely off guard and into a dark oblivion. Which is exactly what greeted him once the substance flowed from the needle and into his blood stream. The last thing he saw was hatred in her narrowed eyes because he had killed the person Bonnie loved. He deserved that loathing.

Stefan doubted Bonnie would ever forgive him and he didn't blame her.

"Rough night?"

Stefan opened his eyes but didn't move his head towards the stranger that took a seat next to him and was staring at him curiously. Usually, he would sense when a presence was next to him. It was a natural instinct he picked up after so many years of running or watching his back. Especially when he became the ripper.

 _Oh right, not a vampire anymore_...he thought.

"You can say that." Stefan's reply was soft, void of any emotion and said almost mechanically.

The stranger signaled the bartender for a  
Two more drinks. "I've had nights like those, mate. Often find myself drinking myself into a slumber. Not sure if that's good or bad." He concluded with a dry chuckle, his voice a bit lower than Stefan's.

The bartender filled two glasses with a mixture of drinks before sitting them down on the bar. He regarded the two for a moment, probably because Stefan was already on his sixth shot and didn't seem to be the least bit tipsy. Shaking his head, he went about the bar servicing other customers. Stefan didn't see the overshadowed look in the bartenders hard eyes or his tense posture.

The stranger slid one glass over towards Stefan. "On me."

Stefan eyed the drink before finally casting his attention on the man beside him. He had shaggy blonde hair that was the length of Damon's, if not longer, and wore a plain white t-shirt with a jacket and black pants. The guy was dressed nice and Stefan wondered if he lived in Mystic Falls. Looking closely, he took notice to the fact he had never seen him before so he highly doubted it. _Probably just passing by_ , Stefan mused. "Thanks, but I should get going." He gave a grateful smile for the offered drink and stood up.

The man rose a brow. He looked at the abandoned glass and back up to the man it was meant for. "Never caught your name. Names Drake." He greeted, extending out a hand.

Stefan grabbed his hand and gave a friendly shake. "Stefan. Thanks for the drink but ill have to pass." With that said, he turned around and walked out of the bar, not sparring the man another glance as the door swung close.

Stefan walked, letting his feet shuffle across the concrete. Thoughts of 'Drake' fled his mind, replaced with much darker ones. If he had been paying attention, if he hadn't lost those dire instincts of awareness that came with being a vampire, he would have known the presence behind him. Stefan's whole mind and body would have seen the danger that lurked closer and closer. Too lost in his own tortured abyss, he wasn't prepared for the tight grip that found his arm or the harsh jerk that accompanied rough hands. It was only when he found himself pulled in an ally that he knew he should have paid more attention to his surroundings.


End file.
